


Giving Thanks

by esteoflorien



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteoflorien/pseuds/esteoflorien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foisting Thanksgiving on her family is apparently one of Lady Grantham’s lingering American particularities, but Sarah O’Brien can’t see the problem with it. A collection of Corah drabbles for Thanksgiving 2012, with a slightly longer epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Thanks

**{1904}**

They’d warned her, in tones dripping with amusement and condescension, that the mistress never relinquished some of her more American particularities. Foisting  _Thanksgiving_  on her family is apparently one of them, but Sarah can’t see the problem with it. The daughters  _are_  half-American, aren’t they?

She can’t share in the celebration, of course, but she listens with rapt attention to her lady’s memories.

And when a note appears, tucked haphazardly in her sewing box when she wasn’t looking, she’s touched by the simple words –  _I’m so thankful for you, O’Brien_  – and thinks she could grow to like this American holiday.

**{1908}**

By her fifth Thanksgiving, Sarah is mostly interested in the holiday as a pleasant preamble to Christmas.  Lady Grantham, whose seemingly perpetual sweetness far outweighs her moments of caprice, is particularly kind at Christmas. It begins with the yearly note of thanks, tucked wherever Lady Grantham can manage it without her seeing, and culminates with her present from her lady on Christmas Eve night. The season in between is touched with more familiarity and affection between them, and despite herself, Sarah knows perfectly well that she lives for those moments.

Lady Grantham’s note, full of genuine appreciation, warms her through.

**{1914}**

This year’s note twists her heart. She toys with tossing it into the fire, these beautiful words of misplaced thanks, but she can’t bear to destroy any gift from her lady.

She has no pretty paper of her own, but Lady Grantham, for all that she adores beautiful things, will look past her humble stationery.

 _Your notes remind me each year how very fortunate I am to care for such a generous mistress_ , she writes, easily enough. The next words come with far greater difficulty.  _I don’t deserve your thanks_.

“Oh,  _O’Brien_ ,” the lady sighs, thinking she’s out of earshot.

**{1916}**

“Think of all the Christmases this house has seen,” Lady Grantham marvels. “ _All_  of this place, really.” She’s never lost that endearing sense of wonder; Sarah knows that her marital happiness was fleeting, but she finds it touching that Lady Grantham still marvels at her adopted country.

“Not nearly as many Thanksgivings,” Sarah replies.

Lady Grantham blushes. “It’s silly, I know,” she says, but she reaches for Sarah’s hand, sliding this year’s note between their fingers.

“I look forward to it,” Sarah says; if  _she_  were to write a note this year, it would read  _I’m thankful for your smile_.

**{1919}**

This year, her note, found propped on her pillow beside a tiny box of chocolates, is signed  _Cora_. It speaks, in Cora’s phrasing, of  _gratitude beyond words_ , and Sarah has the sense that she’s not only speaking of being nursed through a bout of Spanish influenza.

“It isn’t nice to sneak into someone’s room, my lady,” Sarah murmurs that evening as she dresses her lady for dinner.

Lady Grantham giggles, promptly blushing. “I didn’t have a choice! I wanted you to  _find_ this year’s letter.”

Sarah smiles at her in the mirror. “I always treasure your notes, found or not.”

**{1920}**

She’d thought this would be the first year without a note, but Cora surprises her by handing her a card after she’s settled in bed. She’s tired this year, older and careworn.

“I suppose there wasn’t much to be thankful for this year,” Sarah murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling the envelope between her hands.

Cora smiles sadly. “I wouldn’t say that. There’s Sybbie, for a start, and I can’t be anything but thankful for her.”

“I’m so thankful for you, my lady,” she says, as Cora did at the start.

“Call me Cora,” Lady Grantham says.

**{1921}**

_Call me Cora_  led most surprisingly to other pleasures, and by the time the summer’s warmth gives way to November’s darkness, Sarah marvels at how much has changed. She thinks nothing of kissing Cora now, of sitting with her during breakfast and sneaking strawberries from her plate.

She finds Cora’s note underneath her pillow, much to her lover’s amusement. Cora smiles adoringly at her as she opens it.

Sarah cries readily at Cora’s profession of love and gratitude. She sets the note carefully on the endtable before wrapping Cora in her arms.

“Thank you,” she finally says, and Cora laughs.

**{1925 | epilogue}**

The house is far smaller than Downton Abbey, but Sarah doesn’t mind, and Cora, much to her surprise, revels in it. Tonight, there is no turkey (far too large for two), but there’s a goose roasting in the oven as a treat, and mulled wine simmering on the stove.

Sarah is immeasurably thankful for the sight of Cora, happily tired after a long day in the kitchen, looking expectantly at her across the table, for this woman’s fingers laced with her own, for Cora’s indulgent smile when Sarah kisses her hand.

“Oh!” Cora exclaims. “I’d almost forgotten.” She leaves the room with a squeeze to Sarah’s hand. “It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it, you know,” she says, handing it to Sarah. She giggles when Sarah pulls her into her lap.

“It wouldn’t,” Sarah murmurs, and presses a kiss to Cora’s temple as she carefully opens the envelope.

 _I’m so very thankful for your love_ , Cora has written. Sarah smiles, replaces the card, and sets it aside to be placed with the others.

And  _thankful_  is the only word that comes to mind that night, after the table has been cleared and the dishes washed and put away, when Cora presses close to her, molding herself to her, her breath warm on Sarah’s neck, when Sarah drifts to sleep with her heart full of Cora,  _thankful_  for the life they’re making together.

She whispers as much into Cora’s ear, savoring the feeling of Cora’s answering kiss and smile against her skin.


End file.
